Cry Treachery
by Ethos
Summary: What if Miraz hadn’t been betrayed by his own people? How would things have ended? The kings and queens of Narnia are going to have to find out the hard way. AU with Movie-verse and a touch of Book-verse. One-shot and prequel to "Justice and Vengeance"


**Summery:** What if Miraz hadn't been betrayed by his own people? What effects would that have upon the Narnians? How would things have ended? AU based off of Movie-verse and a touch of Book-verse. Currently from Peter's perspective.

**Rated:** T for violence.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters or places contained herein. I do not own any of the works of C.S. Lewis.

**Author's Note:** Alright, so I saw the 12:01 showing of Prince Caspian and loved it to death. I was particularly enthralled by the amazing duel toward the end, thus I wrote this. However, this will probably be a lovely/bizarre mix of Movie-verse, Book-verse, and AU as I did watch it once, a week ago, at midnight, with a ton of noisy friends and thus can't recall lines all that well. I may also skip a thing or two or get something out of order.

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Pop!

His sight failed him suddenly and he screamed. Pain. It filled him, made him want to cry, but he knew he could not. He had to be strong right now. At the moment, however, he couldn't remember why.

Vision suddenly snapping into focus, he was treated to the sight of Miraz's hulking figure above him. Everything came back to the young king then and he allowed his instincts to rule him. Instantly he pulled his limbs in and rolled away from the villain, narrowly avoiding a finishing blow. Somehow he managed to get his feet under him and he brandished his sword once again. It was a testament to the Lion alone that he was able to stand there. Black spots were flickering in his vision and his mind seemed to want to flee in all directions at once. Still, he took a tentative step forward and, finding that there was still strength in him, suddenly struck out against his foe. It was parried. He was pushed. Spinning, he brought his blade to bear again, only have his tortured arm bashed with his enemy's shield. Somehow he managed to keep his head in the game through, and block the flurry of blows Miraz sent his way.

Then there was a lull. The two combatants circled each other, glaring fiercely over the distance. Miraz's age was showing, he was sucking air like a winded horse, but the younger man was stumbling and letting his shield arm hang loosely at his side.

"Does the little king need a moment?" Miraz scoffed.

The young man wearily lifted his head and looked around, then silently nodded. Miraz smirked at him and turned away, but Peter didn't care. All he wanted to do was sit down with his family around him, if only for a few minutes.

As he reached the Narnian line, he heard his name being called and saw Edmund running up to him. His lips smiled in return, but he flopped unceremoniously onto a stone and hissed as it jarred him. "I think it's dislocated, Ed," he murmured.

Edmund frowned at him. There was genuine concern in the younger boy's eyes, something that Peter would have thought impossible a year ago. It was amazing how much his little brother had grown. All he'd learned in that time was to have a big head, and where had that lead them? They stood now on the brink of defeat thanks to him. He could only pray that Lucy reached Aslan in time.

Time. It was left to him to buy the Narnians time, and the task was proving more difficult than he'd guessed. Looking over toward Miraz and his minions, Peter felt ice grip him. The usurper was sitting there, fat and lazy, looking rather like the cat who'd just cornered a mouse. The high king closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Ed, I haven't been very decent lately, have I?," he said slowly, "So much of this wouldn't have happened if I'd listened to you and the others." The elder boy paused then, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before letting out a deep breath. He cast a look over his shoulder, spying Susan on the Howe and wondered if Lucy had met Aslan yet. Worry filled him and he trained his eyes forward, studying the enemy. "Give my love to - to everyone at home, Ed, if he-"

Pop!

The next sound out of Peter's mouth was a choked cry as he felt the bone in his shoulder snap back into place.

"Save it." WIth that, Edmond walked over and picked up Peter's shield, meaning to hand it to him, but he was cut off by a wave of his brother's good hand.

"Don't bother. I think the muscle's been torn, but at any rate, I won't be able to use it."

The younger king nodded solemnly and set the shield back down. If Peter didn't know any better, he would have suspected some reverence in the movement. "They're coming," Edmund stated.

"Who is?"

"Lucy and Aslan. They're coming, Peter, they just need a bit more time. Not much at all."

Peter took a deep breath and used his brother's words to steel himself. He only had to hold out a little longer, then all would be well. Standing up, he nodded to his opponent and began to walk forward.

"You'd better keep smiling," he heard Edmund whisper from behind him. At once the high king turned back to his people with a wooden smile and a hefted sword. The cheer was nearly defining. If only they'd known how he truly felt, but he thanked the Lion that they didn't.

Bringing the blade up into a defensive position, he walked out and stood in the center of the their ring and waited. Sure enough, Miraz was quick to follow, though he gave an odd look to his second. Peter didn't have much time to wonder about it though, as he suddenly found himself drawn back into the fight of his life.

Ducking to the side, he narrowly avoided a slash that was meant to take off his head. Another stroke came and he jumped backward. Suddenly Miraz spun and came up behind him. His head was slammed into the stone and Peter wondered briefly that he was still on his feet, but he shook it off quickly enough and shrugged out of his dangerous position.

Dropping low with a burst of inspiration, he swept his sword close to the ground and was rewarded with the feel of flesh rending beneath the blow. Miraz stumbled and Peter could not deny himself a feral smile as he drew himself back up again. Part of him wanted to simply run the man through. How many lives had been lost on account of the scum? But he was a Narnian, and the High King at that. He could not stoop to such levels. Instead he started to ask for his opponent's surrender, but Miraz cut him off with a swing of his sword.

Not for the first time, Peter felt himself backpedalling, trying to escape the furious barrage. Truly, he missed his shield in that moment. Just then Miraz closed the distance, but instead of feeling the cold thrust of a sword, he stumbled and nearly when down when his opponent's shield smashed into his wounded shoulder a second time. As spots reappeared in his vision, he realized that the ruthless man was targeting his weakness. He'd have to be more careful. The High King rolled away, only to find that the pummeling continued. Realizing that what he was doing wasn't working, Peter suddenly switched tactics and drove the pommel of his sword hard into Miraz's leg wound and sprang to his feet. Even as the other was still reeling from the shock, the young king started bringing the tip of his sword to neck level.

Then there was a pinch. It was a strange little feeling really, and Peter was surprised to find himself being flung onto his back. Even more strange was the fact that he couldn't seem to get back to his feet. He heard his name being shouted from a long ways off. Odd, he was having trouble breathing now, not the sort that you have when you've run to much, but the sort that you feel when someone's squeezing your throat. It occurred to him then to see what was the matter, and he moved his hands to where he'd felt the sensation.

Eyes going wide, he gasped, or tried to, and ran his hands over it again. Fletching. Wood. Blood. How'd he get shot? His mind wasn't working as quickly as it aught, but a basic idea worked it's way into his head.

A face was above him now; dark-haired, wide-eyed, and white as a sheet. "No, Peter! Peter, come on! Lucy's going to be here in just a moment, Aslan too," his younger brother shouted at him.

Peter felt arms around him then and saw moisture gathering in the younger man's eyes. _Come now, Ed, I'll be alright_, he started to say, but there wasn't enough air in his lungs. Working against the strangled feeling, he tried to breathe in but found the task to be horribly difficult. Instead he felt blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. That was not good.

Now he understood.

Oh, why had Edmund cut him off earlier? There was so much he needed to say now and he hadn't the breath to say it. _Aslan, I'm sorry for not listening to you more. Caspian, I'm sorry for being a jerk. I was too much of a fool to see past my own stubborn pride, you'll make a fine king. Susan, you're a good sister and a great friend. Stop worrying so much and start living more. Lucy, ah dear Lucy, you were right all along Lu. I'm sorry I've ever doubted you. I'm sorry I can't be there for you any longer. And Edmund..._ Edmund was here, looking down on him even now. Perhaps he could manage to say one farewell.

Gathering his remaining strength, he tried to speak, only to be hushed by his sibling, but he would not be gainsaid now. Not even a whisper could escape his lips, but his lips still worked. "Ed..." he mouthed, but then even that power was taken from him.

For a moment he lay there, staring up.

Then everything went black.

When at last he opened his eyes again, he saw a fair green country that he'd never seen before and there was a great, golden figure there who shone like the sun.

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**Author's Other Note:** I'm currently deciding whether this is going to be a one-shot or not. It really depends on the amount of muse I get for continuing. If I do continue, it will focus on Edmund and Caspian and the problems they face without Peter there to aid them.


End file.
